The bell above the café door chimed — early, soft, harmless.
Sunny glanced up from the espresso machine, still groggy from opening shift. The morning rush hadn't hit yet, which gave her a rare window of quiet.
Then she saw him.
Zane.
Hood up. Sunglasses on. Completely inconspicuous except… not at all.
Her brow arched. "You stalking me?"
He pulled down the hood and flashed a lopsided grin. "Just chasing good coffee. I hear the girl behind the counter's kinda magical."
Sunny snorted, trying — and failing — to fight the blush rising to her cheeks. "You're usually a mysterious morning person. As in: I know you're awake, but you don't appear until the lighting's flattering."
Zane smirked. "I like to give the sun a head start."
She rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. "So what's the occasion?"
He leaned on the counter, casual as ever. "Maybe I missed you."
Sunny blinked, caught off guard — and then quickly recovered. "That'll cost you extra."
He leaned on the counter, fingers drumming lightly. "Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf. Or maybe I was hoping to catch a certain barista before the rest of the city woke up."
Sunny rolled her eyes, but her smile was genuine. "What'll it be then, mysterious early bird?"
Zane tilted his head. "Surprise me."
"Dangerous request."
"Exactly."
---
Just as Sunny handed over Zane's coffee — artfully topped with foam in the shape of a cat — her boss strolled over from the back counter, drying her hands on a dish towel.
"Well, well," she said, eyeing Zane with mild amusement. "So this is the famous Zane I've heard so much about."
Zane sat up a little straighter, throwing on his most charming grin. "Famous, huh? I like the sound of that."
Her boss gave him a once-over, then shot a look at Sunny. "I haven't seen you since that meeting with the Euphony Trio months ago. Thought maybe Sunny was just making you up — but then Becca told me all about it. Said the air got about ten degrees warmer when you walked in."
Sunny turned crimson. "Becca exaggerates."
Zane leaned forward, smug. "Remind me to thank Becca for the good press."
Sunny groaned behind her hands.
Her boss just chuckled and walked away. "Try not to distract my employee too much, heartthrob."
---
Once her boss walked off — still chuckling under her breath — Sunny slid into the seat across from Zane, cheeks burning.
"I swear," she muttered, burying her face in her hands for a second, "everyone here is out to expose me."
Zane sipped his coffee, eyes warm over the rim of the cup. "You have talked about me, huh?"
She groaned. "Becca has very active ears."
He leaned his elbows on the table, teasing but gentle. "So… how much exactly have you said? Just the basics, or are we talking dramatic re-enactments of our kiss in the rain?"
Sunny narrowed her eyes at him, her blush deepening. "I hate you."
"You love me."
She rolled her eyes — but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. "Shut up and drink your coffee."
He reached across the table and brushed her fingers with his.
"I will, but only if you sit with me a little longer."
Her gaze softened. Despite the teasing, despite the embarrassment, it felt… nice. Warm. Familiar. Like morning sunlight through a café window — simple and gentle.
"Just a minute," she whispered, settling into the chair a little deeper.
And he smiled like that was all he needed.
---
The sun hung low in the sky, spilling warm amber light through the studio's dusty windows. Sunny's text had gone out earlier — short, simple, but heartfelt.
"Let's meet one last time before tomorrow? No rehearsal. Just us."
And somehow, all four of them had arrived within the same ten-minute window.
Zane was the first to flop dramatically onto the old studio couch. "So what's the plan, Sunshine? We all just stare at each other until someone gets emotional?"
Sunny snorted as she placed her tote down. "You're dangerously close to being the first."
Axel entered with a paper bag of snacks rustling in one arm. "Brought fuel. Cookies, chips... and one questionable granola bar."
"Sold," Zane said, reaching into the bag like a gremlin. "You always know the way to my heart."
Laura was the last to arrive. Quiet, understated as always, but there was something different about her smile tonight — not the tight-lipped politeness she wore so often, but something looser. Lighter. She set her notebook down and wandered toward the piano without sitting.
They didn't rehearse. Not really. But Axel tapped at a soft rhythm on the cajón while Sunny hummed, drifting into melody. Laura joined in without meaning to — her fingers instinctively pressing keys that weren't perfectly timed, but somehow felt more right than ever.
Zane leaned back against the wall, watching it all unfold. No choreography. No polished routine. Just them.
Eventually, Sunny curled up near the mic stand, legs folded beneath her. Axel opened a bag of chips and lazily tossed one into Zane's mouth, which he almost caught.
Laura shook her head. "This is going to be our most chaotic live performance yet."
Zane grinned, camera in hand. "Perfect time for a photo, then."
He quickly angled the lens, catching all of them mid-laughter — Axel with chip dust on his fingers, Laura with her hair slightly mussed, Sunny looking half-surprised and radiant. The photo wasn't centered. The lighting was uneven. But when he looked at the result, he didn't want to change a thing.
Zane smiled, lowering the camera. "Let's make tomorrow count."
Axel, sitting on the floor beside the snack bag, looked up and met his gaze. "We already have."
The room fell into a gentle silence after that — not awkward, just… whole.
For a moment, none of them were worried about what came next.
They were just four people who had built something together — messy, real, and unforgettable.
---
The moon hung high, draped in silver mist, as Zane and Sunny walked side by side down the quiet street. Festival lanterns had long faded, leaving only the stars and the rhythm of their footsteps. The world felt slower here, the air gentler — as if it knew this moment mattered.
They didn't speak at first. Sunny held onto his arm, her fingers grazing his knuckles, then slipping in to lace with his hand. Zane squeezed back — not too hard, but just enough to remind her he was there.
Finally, Sunny broke the silence. "It's weird… knowing everything changes after tomorrow."
Zane glanced sideways, catching her expression in the pale moonlight. "It won't all change."
"You'll leave," she said, voice soft. "Back to touring. Back to… the rest of your life."
He slowed, letting them come to a stop beneath a tree that cast shadows over the sidewalk. "Yeah. But this—" he gently bumped her forehead with his, "—this isn't something I plan on leaving behind."
Sunny lowered her gaze, her other hand nervously fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. "I don't know if I'm good at long distance. Or waiting. Or… trusting that we'll still feel this way weeks from now."
"I don't either," Zane admitted. "But I want to try. If you do."
A breeze rustled the leaves above them. Sunny leaned against his chest, closing her eyes. "I think… I really want to try."
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her like the night could slip away too fast. "Then we'll figure it out. Together."
They stayed like that for a while — wrapped in silence, in warmth, in the terrifying and beautiful promise of maybe.
And when they eventually walked again, fingers still entwined, it was slower. Like they were walking through a dream.
Like this moment could stretch just a little longer — a final memory to carry into tomorrow.
---
The soft clack of keys and the hum of Axel's old computer filled the room. Laura sat beside him, her legs curled under her on the chair, the faint steam from her tea long since faded. It was late, but neither of them felt like sleeping.
The room was dim, lit only by the screen and a small desk lamp. Axel worked on some last-minute tech setup — he claimed it soothed his nerves — while Laura idly scrolled through notes and checklists, her mind far away.
"You know…" she said, voice breaking the quiet, "at first I was against the idea of the collaboration."
Axel's fingers paused over the keyboard, but he didn't look over. "Because of Zane?"
"Because of change," she murmured. "Because it meant breaking routine. Letting someone new in. It felt like… like letting go of control."
There was a beat of silence, and then Axel finished for her — his tone calm, certain:
"Meant to happen?"
Laura blinked, surprised — not that he'd guessed her thoughts, but that he'd put them into words so easily.
She gave a small nod. "Yeah…"
He turned slightly in his chair, finally meeting her eyes. "He grew on you."
She gave a soft, reluctant smile. "I guess he grew on all of us."
Axel leaned back, folding his arms. "He brought something raw. Unfiltered. And yeah, a little chaotic—"
"—a lot chaotic," Laura added, lips curving.
"—but good for us," he finished. "Made things… feel again. Not just sound better."
Laura looked down at her tea. "Do you think he'll be okay? After this?"
Axel shrugged gently. "I think… we'll all carry a little of each other, no matter where we go."
A silence settled again — not heavy, not sad. Just full.
Then Axel added, "Also, you're really bad at saying you'll miss someone."
Laura raised an eyebrow. "And you're really bad at letting people leave."
They smiled.
And for the first time in a while, they both leaned back in their chairs — not to work, not to plan — just to sit in the quiet, side by side, with a silent acknowledgment that this chapter was about to close… but something lasting had come of it.
---
They walked in easy silence, their fingers interlaced, the sound of distant crickets filling the night air. The moon hung high, casting a silver glow over the path ahead, and the cool breeze carried the scent of pine and lakewater. Sunny kept glancing at Zane, biting her lip. Something had sparked in her mind—spontaneous, a little crazy, a little cliché—but... it felt right.
She suddenly tugged him to a stop. "Zane…"
He turned toward her, brows raised. "Yeah…?"
She hesitated, her voice soft. "There's a lake not far from here. It's kind of silly, but… I always wondered what it'd be like to… take a dip in the middle of the night. You know. Like in the movies."
Zane's eyes lit with surprise, and then amusement. "You're serious?"
She looked down, flustered. "I mean—yeah. Why not? One last reckless memory before you leave."
A slow grin tugged at his lips. "A midnight skinny dip?" He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Sunshine, I didn't know you had that kind of chaos in you."
Her cheeks burned. "Don't make it weird."
"It's already weird. But I'm in."
---
They found their way to the lake, giggling like kids, their shoes in hand and the night air nipping at their skin. The trees parted to reveal the glistening water — smooth and glasslike beneath the stars.
Clothes were discarded in a messy pile on the rocks. Zane jumped in first with a yelp at the chill, and Sunny soon followed, squealing as the water hugged her skin. It was cold, yes—but freeing. Pure. They floated in the silence, laughing between shivers until the laughter gave way to stillness.
Zane swam closer, brushing a hand along her arm. "You're freezing," he whispered.
"So are you," she whispered back.
Their lips met — softly at first. Then hungrily.
There was something about being submerged beneath starlight and moonbeams that stripped away any hesitation. The chill of the lake only made their bodies press closer, seeking warmth. Zane's hands cupped her cheeks, fingers wet and trembling. Sunny's breath hitched as she wrapped her arms around him, her chest against his, slick and rising with every heartbeat.
They kissed — again and again — until the line between water and skin, shiver and sigh, melted. They found the shore, stumbling through the reeds, laughing between kisses. Clothes forgotten, the earth damp beneath their knees, they gave in — entirely, tenderly, breathlessly.
Their rhythm wasn't rushed. It was full of wonder — two souls clinging to the now before it could slip away. And when it was over, they lay together wrapped in his jacket, her head tucked beneath his chin, watching ripples stretch across the lake.
"I'm gonna miss this," he murmured.
She squeezed his hand. "Then don't let it end here."
Zane pressed a kiss to her hair, smiling against her temple. "Not a chance."
---
Back at Zane's place, the night settled around them like a soft blanket. He insisted on them showering first — "We're not crawling into bed smelling like lake moss," he teased — and she didn't argue. The water was warm, the steam thick, and though the shower itself was tame, the quiet touches and lazy giggles felt like an extension of the lake — like the night didn't want to end just yet.
Wrapped in one of his oversized shirts, Sunny padded barefoot into the kitchen while Zane rifled through his fridge. They ended up making something simple — grilled cheese and tomato soup, mostly because it was easy and nostalgic. They ate on the couch, plates on their laps, bodies tucked close.
Between bites, Zane suddenly shifted and set his plate aside.
"I had something planned for tomorrow…" he said, scratching the back of his neck. "But I think… now might be better."
Sunny blinked, setting her spoon down. "What do you mean?"
He got up, disappearing into the bedroom for a second before returning with a small, square package — wrapped in sheet music paper, tied with a soft yellow ribbon.
He handed it to her, his expression unreadable but eyes glowing with something warm. "Go on. Open it."
Carefully, she untied the ribbon and peeled back the paper. Inside was a handmade photo book — soft leather cover, her name pressed in delicate silver on the front. Inside were photos. Some printed, some polaroids. Shots from rehearsals. The festival. A messy selfie they'd taken on the studio floor. One she didn't even know he'd snapped of her sketching. And at the very end, there was a photo she recognized — taken earlier that day, when the four of them had met up one last time.
Their blurry, laughing group photo.
On the back cover, written in Zane's scratchy handwriting, were the words:
"Thank you for changing the way I see music — and love. I'll see you soon, Sunshine."
Sunny stared at it for a long time, her throat thick.
"You made this?" she asked softly.
Zane nodded. "It's not perfect. Some of the photos are crooked. I messed up gluing one of the pages. But it felt right. It felt like… us."
She set the book gently on the table and threw her arms around him, burying her face into his chest.
"I love it," she whispered. "I love you."
Zane smiled, arms folding tightly around her. "Yeah? Good. Because I love you too."
They didn't say much more after that.
They just held each other — one last, golden night — before the world changed again.
---
Later that night, as they curled beneath the covers, the glow of the city outside painted soft streaks across the ceiling. Zane had already begun to drift — one arm loosely slung around her waist, breathing deep and steady.
But Sunny remained awake.
She lay there in silence, her gaze tracing the familiar outlines of the penthouse ceiling. The tall windows. The soft rustle of curtains in the night breeze. This place had become a second home without her even realizing it. So many memories lived here now — laughter, frustration, stolen kisses, music humming through the walls.
Tomorrow would be her last night here.
Zane had mentioned hosting a small farewell party after the performance — something lowkey, just the four of them. One final moment to celebrate everything they'd built together. She knew it would be lovely. But Zane was also leaving early the next morning, catching a dawn train back to the city for his next project.
And that thought — that after tomorrow, she'd wake up and he wouldn't be there — tightened something deep in her chest.
She bit her lip, trying not to make a sound. But the tears still came. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just quiet, steady drops that rolled onto the pillow.
She hated goodbyes.
Even if it wasn't forever. Even if they promised to make long-distance work. Even if she believed them.
It still hurt.
Zane stirred slightly beside her, tightening his arm around her waist. His lips brushed the curve of her shoulder, murmuring something unintelligible in his sleep. Sunny closed her eyes, trying to press the warmth of that moment deep into memory.
Maybe he wouldn't let her stay over after the party.
Maybe saying goodbye that night — on her terms, in her own way — would be easier than waking up to an empty bed.
But for now… she held him back. Just a little tighter.
And tried to fall asleep with the sound of his heartbeat in her ear.